


It's Only With You

by danglingdingle



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Felching, M/M, Snowballing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-12
Updated: 2011-09-12
Packaged: 2017-10-23 16:34:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/252467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danglingdingle/pseuds/danglingdingle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur has a kink. Eames finds a kink he didn't know he had. All is fine and better yet. Established relationship, traces of possessiveness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Only With You

**Author's Note:**

> ETA: And now, with a few less spelling errors. My apologies. I don't have a beta, so things tend to get a bit... awry.

Arthur lift himself off Eames’s cock carefully, with a whimper, his brow creasing enough to send a jolt of worry through Eames’s core; “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” Arthur assured, his mouth attempting a smile while managing little more than a slightly displeased line.

“You’re not hurt, are you?” Eames roamed his hands along Arthur’s side as the man laid beside him.

“Of course I’m not,” and this time, Arthur conquered his facial expressions enough to quirk a fond grin at Eames. “When was the last time I hurt myself riding you?”

“Never, I’ll give you that,” Eames answered the smile, “but I do worry about your back sometimes.”

Soothing his fingers downwards, Eames tried to distract Arthur from his maneuverings with a kiss, and failing miserably when Arthur flicked his eyes open and bit Eames’s lip rather viciously. “You’re going to have to take my word for it, Mr. Eames.”

“But I only wanted to make sure,” said Eames nigh sheepishly, his eyes darting between Arthur’s and his hip, where his fingers still insisted on trailing their way towards Arthur’s arse.

With a resignated sigh, Arthur turned on his stomach and took what was coming for him, the post-coital flush turning into something more visceral by the second, which made him want to bury his head into the pillow.

The feeling of something happening, inexorably, something that he‘d tried so hard to keep to himself, to save himself from the embarrassment, tried to save himself from the inevitable look in Eames’s eyes when he laid there bare, both literally and figuratively, and to think that the moment was _now…_

Carefully, Eames spread Arthur’s arse to check for damage, a trickle of his come dribbling from Arthur’s hole in the process, and the sound of sheer loss Arthur keened into his pillow stopped Eames on his tracks.

Sure enough, there was no blood, no signs of tearing. Only the delightful redness of an arsehole well and truly fucked, and Eames could not but to feel a slight bit of ownership over it all, and wasn’t afraid to admit it.

“You’re right, love. You’re all in one piece.” Eames lowered himself, facing Arthur with solemnity that was as rare as sunflowers on the moon. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong, or is this one of those things I have to skulk around for until I find about it anyway?”

Arthur emerges from the pillow, face red, shifting his legs so that he could better cling his arse shut. This not go past Eames, who smoothed a hand over one buttock, luxuriating in the muscle there, tense, for whatever reason.

“If this the moment where you’ve decided that after years of indulging in a relationship with a man, you decided to go straight, it won’t fly. I’ll have none of it.” The teasing lilt in Eames’s voice brought out Arthur’s dimples and made him burrow his face into Eames’s armpit, inhaling deep before resurfacing, all serious, with a hint of trepidation only Eames was privileged to see.

“It’s just that I…” Arthur trailed off, struggling to maintain eye contact, forming inane circles in the air with one hand, while the other snake under Eames’s forearm to pet the back of his head.

Arthur sighed and caved in, licking his lips as if his mouth were too dry to form words, then braced himself, never letting go of Eames like the man was about to skip away at any moment.

“I just don’t like it when…” Arthur stopped to think for a brief spell, oblivious to the dread churning inside Eames’s chest, how his face had gone blank.

Finding it easier to continue in the comfort of Eames’s armpit, Arthur mumbled his words against his skin. “The… Loss, I guess. First I have you, all of you, inside me, and then it trickles away, and there’s nothing I can do about it. All I’m left with is the memory of your searing heat, and the next thing I know, it’s all gone down my thighs, cold, and I feel bereft.”

Eames swallowed hard, computing the truth in Arthur’s words, peering at them at all angles as is he’s wont, before collecting Arthur in his arms more tightly, whispering. “You mean you love my come inside you.”

“If that’s how eloquently you want to put it, then yes. That’s right. I love you filling me with your cock, and the tangible evidence of it disappears all to quickly for my liking.”

Slowly, carefully, with utmost care, Eames lifted Arthur’s leg over his own hip, deft finger’s trailing gently over the jutting bone of Arthur’s and towards their initial destination. He was stopped by Arthur’s hand on his wrist, his grip hard, and something akin to panic in his eyes; “I’m not a cumwhore, Eames. I don’t… It’s never been like this before. Before you,” the words stumbled out as if in an apology, with an air of shame, which, in Eames’s opinion, should not be there in the slightest.

Instead of answering with words, Eames captured Arthur’s lips with his own, his hands traveling further towards the crack of Arthur’s arse, this time meeting no resistance, although the kiss turned over onto this side of hesitant.

“Cold. You’re absolutely right. Lucky for you, I have ways of heating things up again,” Eames winked, fishing a chuckle from Arthur with the cheesiness of it all, while pressing the tip of his finger tenderly against Arthur’s gorgeously slippery hole. Really, it wasn’t like Eames didn’t treasure the entire phenomena of being able to spill himself deep inside Arthur, and the added excitement of what had only just taken place, clearly made his libido forget everything it’d ever heard of a refractory period.

Already half hard again, Eames nudged his cock against Arthur’s, delighting in the way it jerked in response, and proceeded to rub two fingers through the mess he’d made before. And Arthur, being Arthur, and especially, Arthur with Eames, mewled quietly while pressing himself against the fingers like he’d never get enough. Not, when there weren’t pressing deadlines and depressing periods of being worlds apart.

“How about this, then,” Eames murmured against Arthur’s lips, pushing a finger deeper inside Arthur, teasing, knowing full well it was driving the man mad.

“You sit on my face and let me lick you clean, and you suck my cock while I’m at it, eh?”

Eames could feel Arthur shiver, could feel him lick his lips against his own, an let out a gust of groan. The man truly loved being eaten out.

A measure of rearranging pillows and comforters and limbs to get to where they wanted, Eames had the perfect view of the gleaming hole, surrounded with wispy little hairs that felt so tantalizing on his tongue, faced with his own come still trickling out faintly where Arthur, darling Arthur, had tried to keep it inside.

As if by mutual agreement, Eames laved his tongue over the hole up to the crease of Arthur’s arse, while simultaneously receiving Arthur’s mouth on Eames’s cock as deep as he could at the first go.

The muffled moan Arthur purred around Eames’s cock, the enthralling scent of Arthur when Eames buried his nose into the skin to inhale deep, together with the mingling taste of Arthur’s delectable arse an his own come, unrolled a thread of an idea, springing forth from the recesses of his mind, making him fuck Arthur deeper with his tongue, making him tense his thighs around Arthur’s head, making him lose time until nothing mattered, except his cunning plan.

It was a praised testament to Arthur’s ability to suck cock, when Eames barely managed stutter out the words that had been loosely forming in his head. He could picture it, all in vivid detail, which made the tightening coil of his impeding release all the more prominent.

With a final, lingering suck, Eames gathered his wits enough to bite Arthur’s arse cheek and utter; “Don’t swallow. Please, just… Don’t swallow. And for the love of God, don’t spit.”

Granted, Eames’s voice was shaky and he clinged to Arthur’s arse like his life depended on it, once again burying his face in it, moaning shamelessly at the way he could feel Arthur pause for a millisecond before smiling, with a hint of teeth, around Eames’s cock, and Eames didn’t even have time to ponder how Arthur’s poor, neglected cock must’ve been feeling. He’d get back to that.

And then he was coming. Spilling hot into Arthur’s mouth, who, never quite the one to take orders without a hint of mutiny, did swallow. Some.

Eames was on his knees as soon as he could possibly muster, dragging Arthur up with him, and attacked Arthur’s come-filled mouth with his own, sliding his tongue deep, tasting, whimpering at the smooth-slick feel of his own come mixed with Arthur’s saliva, heedless of how it dribbled down his chest as Arthur opened his mouth to be plundered more thoroughly.

Sucking on Arthur’s tongue, Eames proceeded to salvage what was left of their combined fluids, and carefully extracted himself from Arthur, the man looking to all the word like a living, painfully aroused question mark.

The sight of Arthur’s red-hot cock nearly made Eames’s plans splutter all over the sheets, but he was a man of determination, as witnessed by the years of courting Arthur before he got what he wanted and would never let go, so this was, albeit not easy, but a walk in the park nonetheless. A rather pleasant walk, at that, thought Eames as he crawled knee over hand towards the end of the bed, gesturing Arthur to occupy the head of the bed, and manhandled the suspicious-looking man on his knees and hands, arse on Eames’s eyelevel, so that Eames could get back work. Or pleasure, rather.

Eames spread Arthur open with his thumbs, spilling some of his mouthful to slide down the crack of Arthur’s arse, then promptly began to push the fluids inside with his tongue.

Deeming this method unfortunately ineffective, he his thumbs to the aid, gathering the slick, heady mix up off Arthur’s skin and promptly shivered when Arthur began panting in earnest.

“Your arse is a delicious mess, Arthur,” Eames drawled in between licks, pushing his other thumb inside so that Arthur’s arse wouldn’t have to feel lonely while Eames’s tongue was busy talking. “I’d very much like to fuck you. Very, very much, but I’m afraid you’ve _sucked me dry._ ”

“Oh, God, Eames, please,” And while not an inconsiderate lover by any means, Eames, getting lost in a kink he didn’t know he had, had somehow forgotten the strain of Arthur’s cock, and with that realization, it hit him, hard, how Arthur would not settle for his own hand. Not now. And if Eames was granted one wish, he’d never do it from this day on either, for the man was _his_ to take care of.

And take care he would.

With only minor awkwardness, Eames slithered under Arthur, his cock at mouth-level, while his fingers pushed back inside everything Eames could possibly have dribbled all over Arthur’s arse.

Taking Arthur in mouth cause the man to keen desperately, simultaneously pushing back into the fingers inside him, and trying fuck Eames’s mouth, ending up with a regrettable stand-still between the was of want.

Pushing in deeper, Eames took (heart wrenching, since he knew full well what his lover was going through,) pity, and began to time his thrust in that pace that made Arthur’s eyes roll inside with bliss.

Panting, finally, being given the friction in his arse he craved for, Arthur could focus on being sucked in earnest.

Eames, on the other hand, despaired minutely, since he loved the way Arthur’s cock sid between his lips and down his throat, adored the way the man threw all caution to the wind and focuse on his own pleasure, taking it, unapologetically, from Eames. And although it would be obvious from the way his voice would be hoarse the net day, everyone probably knowing precisely what he’d been up to, the only thing he could bring himself to lament was how he couldn’t possibly fuck Arthur again, and give him what he truly wanted.

The rapid, panting moans cued Eames in on Arthur coming in seconds, sohe clutched his throat around Arthur’s cock the best he knew how, savoring the full-boy shudder caused my it, the even pain in his scalp as Arthur tried to ground himself for a last precious moment, until he curved like a bow, hips pumping exactly the way they were meant to, in Eames’s humble opinion.

Exhausted, Arthur was pliant in Eames’s hands, letting him pull him p the bed, under the covers, flopping a bit until they were comfortable, the only thing ripping a tear in their bliss the small, renewed whimper from Arthur.

“Shh, shh, darling, I’ve got you,” Eames soothed Arthur’s shoulder, wrapping an arm around him and spider-walking his fingers downwards. “I won’t let you slide away… Well, me. Um. Us.”

Chuckling, pacified, Arthur hummed in contentment as he felt the slide of Eames’s fingers.

With Eames’s two digits inside Arthur, the men exchanging languid, sleepy kisses, Eames tilted back a fraction, and gazed into Arthur’s eyes, biting his lower lip thoughtfully. “What say you…” Eames gave his hand its own will and it promptly found itself around Arthur’s waist, “were I to fuck you in the morning, fill you up good and proper, and plug you up. With that one with the wide flare, so that nothing leaks out.” Eames searched Arthur’s eyes for a moment before beginning to fidget with Arthur’s hair. “That way I can be inside you all day, as hot as you please. What say you to that?”

In response, Arthur took Eames’s hand from his hair and sucked two fingers knuckle deep, before laving at the fingertips, his eyes fixed on Eames’s from beneath his almost-coyly lowered lashes.

“I would say,” Arthur discarded Eames’s fingers in favour of tonguing his wrist, kissing the bony knob there, biting slightly on the underside of the delicate skin before pulling Eames’s arm for his pillow, curling up to mold himself to the planes of Eames’s chest. “Yes. But only if I can jerk off in the bathroom during breaks.”

“Ah. You drive a hard bargain,” Eames place a kiss on top of Arthur’s smirking head. “Only if I get to watch.”

“Hmm,” Arthur snuggled into Eames’s neck with a snort. “That’s settled, then.”

Before long, the Night discovered two men entangled within each other, a smile playing on both their lips, the Night only slightly jealous of what the Day would be witnessing. After all, they could chat all about it at sundown.

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